Photo Fit
by B A Cucumber
Summary: John discovers Sherlock's darkest secret ... warning: hints at violence! I don't own any of these characters. They belong entirely to A.C. Doyle and the Moffat/Gatiss "Sherlock". In response to your lovely comments, now a multi-chapter.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock had been concentrating on an online article when John suddenly flew at him holding _those photographs_. He cursed himself for not having hidden them better, even more for not keeping an eye on his flat mate, but most of all for having kept the pictures in the first place.

"_**Sherlock**_!" John's tone said it all. The detective sighed and looked at the stocky man waving the polaroids that had just fallen from _Treasure Island_. "What are these?" _Obvious_.

Sherlock shrugged trying to ignore his stomach sizing up, but John went on, "Where did you get them?"

"They're mine," Sherlock said because that was the truth. John looked crestfallen.

"They're _illegal_. They're _child-pornography_! _Sherlock_ –"

"I know," Sherlock said in a weak attempt at holding John's stare but failing.

"_Why_ have you got them?"

"I _need_ them!"

"For. A case. You need them. For a case," the doctor had to make sure.

"_No_." John's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He tried to figure out what the answer might imply.

"So they're left from. An old case."

"No."

"You're not allowed to have them!"

"I _am_!" Sherlock declared, and John could hardly hide his rage, "These children. Suffered".

Sherlock shook his head, "Child."

"What?"

"Just one child," Sherlock corrected his flat mate.

John stared, "And that's supposed to make it better. Sherlock, _every single child_ matters!"

"This one doesn't."


	2. Chapter 2

"This," John looked at the naked child, "Boy. Has feelings."

"No one's giving a toss about them!"

"How can you actually stand yourself?"

"What do you mean?" Sherlock sounded suspicious.

"Sometimes you're so cold and cruel and heartless. What has this boy done to you?"

"I don't care about him! He doesn't matter! Didn't then, doesn't now. He suffered. Good. Past tense. It's over!" Sherlock was slowly getting very angry.

"No, it isn't. It can't ever be. Good. Children like this don't forget. Can't-"

"John! _Stop_."

"I'm taking these to the police!" John said sadly.

"_**No**_! _John_, no! _NO police_," a panic-stricken Sherlock wailed and jumped up from the sofa. His foot got tangled in the charging cable of his notebook and he stumbled onto the table gracelessly. John was almost sure Sherlock had hurt himself, but the man went on, "_**please**_, John. Don't do _that_!" He held out a shaking hand.


	3. Chapter 3

"You're _sick_!" John's words hurt more than he wanted to allow them to, "You keep child-pornography of the worst kind in a book and expect me to turn a blind eye. _No, Sherlock_. You cannot seriously expect that. These pictures will go. Or I will."

"_John_!" Sherlock pleaded, "Please, give them back."

"What are you so scared of – _oh_," John flipped through the pictures and Sherlock gave a helpless croak, "Don't tell me it's _you_ in these –!" He doubted the younger man's words, yet he refused to believe Sherlock capable of rape. Partly relieved he looked at the other again. He had found no images of the familiar face.

"You're pathetic," John had never imagined himself saying this to Sherlock.

Sherlock shivered, one big tear rolling down his cheek while John shook his head and stomped towards the door, "Just _look_, John. _Look_."

"WHY? Do you want me to like them? To get off on them. 'cause for all I know you might. I _have_ looked. It makes me sick. So what do you want me to _see_?"

Sherlock gulped and finally brought his hand round his ankle. He was in pain, and he was very, very angry, "Fine, John, _go_. Do what you must," He pushed himself up and stood uncertainly. Then he limped over to his bedroom, "I may be heartless. Cold and cruel. But I'm also _that child_."


	4. Chapter 4

John turned at the door ignoring the photos in his hand. Something in Sherlock's voice had shaken him to the core, and he wished he had not listened, yet still he needed to hear the end of it. He followed him and found the detective curled up on his bed, crying silent tears. John put the photos onto the bed next to Sherlock's head. The younger man noticed and shoved them violently to the floor.

"When?"

"What's that to you?" Sherlock sounded sad, defeated, disappointed.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry. I didn't know. How could I possibly have known? I didn't mean it."

"What? Heartless? Cruel? Cold?"

Sherlock huffed and decided to explain, "I was nine. When it started. Twelve. When they. Found someone else," after a short pause he added, "Someone younger and. More innocent." His voice was bitter.

"Who? They?"

"Teacher. Natural Sciences. Explains some gaps, doesn't it? Solar system. Mr Northam was rather busy teaching me more. Wordly things."

"Have you ever spoken about this?"

"No? Who'd want to hear?"

"I would."

Sherlock gulped and sighed when John touched his ankle. It was slightly swollen. Sherlock did not care. He had hurt his side where he had hit the table.

"You hurt yourself," John stated and Sherlock shrugged the remark off, "I've had worse."

"Let me help," John offered but Sherlock refused to be looked after by someone who hated him.

"I don't _hate_ you. I was angry. Confused."

"And now you're pitying me. Stop pitying me, John. I don't like being pitied."

"I don't pity you," John said.

"Oh," Sherlock sneered, half-heartedly, "No pity for the victim? Then you're heartless, too."

"Can I. Hold you?" John asked, and Sherlock''s eyes narrowed, "Why? You want to have a go, too?"

"No, God, no, Sherlock," John tried to reassure his friend, "I'd like to comfort you." He put an arm around the thin shoulders and pulled Sherlock into a hug. After a while, the lean young man melted into the touch and buried his head in John's sweater.

"It's. Alright," John mumbled holding him, "Just let go."


	5. Chapter 5

"John?" The detective's voice was small and hesitant, "Promise me one thing…"

"Anything," John nodded, rubbing circles on the other one's back.

"This won't go on your blog," Sherlock sat up, "please."

John assured him, but he was curious about what would become of the pictures, "Will you keep them?" Sherlock shrugged, then he eyed John suspiciously, "_Why_? Do _you_ want them?"

"**No**! God, no. But what if someone finds them? Remember that creepy guy who broke into the flat the other day? What if the next time that's one of Moriarty's men? Think of what he'd do to you."

Sherlock pouted and sighed, "They're only copies, John. We never got all the negatives. _Someone_ still has them."


End file.
